"If only we had something we could use as a rope. We could have made a small house for ourselves. It would be so romantic!"

I shake my head disapprovingly. The rain stopped about two hours ago. Or at least, it feels like it's been about two hours. The sun showed it's face for about half an hour more after the rainfall stopped. During this time, we started walking again in search of a good spot to camp for the night. On the way, a lot of insects fell in love with my shirt and attached themselves to it, and July had to brush them off quickly using The Handmaid's Tale before I fainted.

Finally we found a really great place to stay. It's only a great place as the ground is comparatively dry here, maybe because of the dense canopy covering most of the sky overhead. Besides, all the trees here are maintaining a kind of social distancing, leaving a small open space in the middle, where we made a fire after trying for what felt like another 30 minutes.

From the scanty knowledge we had about building fires, we managed to do it, but it was harder and scarier especially because darkness had fallen all around already. The lighter helped greatly, and I don't know what we would've done without it. We built the initial flames using the timber and kindling we collected. To make it stronger, we had to keep on searching for more. The fact that it's summer and thus woods dry up faster was a good plus point.

Right now, July and I are sitting on a dry piece of log that was lying around the place, lonely and abandoned. The fire is burning fiercly in front of us, and we're trying to make it stronger and long lasting by adding more kindling and dry leaves. Now that that's out of the way, only two major problems remain - wild animals that would gladly kill me, and how to sleep for the night.

"Even if we did have some ropes," I say while chewing on a piece of cracker from the snacks Edgar gave, "we would never be able to make a house. Do you even know how to build a house?"

"How hard can it be?" He throws another piece of wood into the fire. His face is glowing orange from the flames as he stares at them with childlike curiosity. "I bet our brains would figure it out. Believe it or not, I have a huge amount of trust in human brain."

I was about to reply when I get an abrupt thought. I ask, "Hey July, is your brain, uh, alive?"

Slowly, he turns his head back and looks at me, a confused expression on his face. We stare at each other in silence for a while, until he finally says, "Okay."

Frowning, I question, "What do you mean okay?"

He shakes his head. "I was actually about to say 'Okay, that's a really good question.' but got interrupted by my thoughts."

"Well, if you have thoughts-"

"You know what, forget it. This is gonna give me a headache."

"Yeah, you're right. Forget it."

I was drifting away to some other thoughts when July says, "So about our little house-"

"We're not making our little house, July."

He gives me a pouty look. Then he looks around and asks, "How did people back in the day make houses? What did they use as ropes?"

"July, if I knew the answer to that, we would already have started making our little house."

He throws a leaf at me but it doesn't fully reach. "You're not helping at all!"

I sigh as I put the can of crackers into the polythene bag. "Forget about the house. I can sleep in the open. I won't be the first one to do that."

"What exactly do you mean by open? Like, here? On the ground? I'm pretty sure it's very cold. Your blood circulation will stop."

"Hmm . . ." I look at the ground. I touch the surface. "No, it's not cold. It's pretty warm. Probably because of the fire?"

"Really?" He touches the ground, only to realize again that he can't feel temperature. He shakes his head and says, "But your body will hurt a lot if you sleep on the ground."

I shrug. "We're out here on the wild. I can't expect to find a surface as soft as my bed. I'll deal with it somehow."

He nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess once in a while it's good for wealthy people to experience these things. It would make them humble. Although you're already far more humble than most rich people I've met."

"It's one of the very few good things about my parents, yeah. Mom came from a poor family, and dad worked his butt off to rise from the middle class to the upper one. Both of them know the struggles, so they taught us to be humble instead of arrogant. We were never spoiled either, only disciplined."

"That's how it always should be. Except the disciplining process should be more . . . controlled than it was in your case. Your and Dale's. There is a line between discipline and abuse."

I scratch my neck, where a mosquito had bitten a while back. "I don't really want to talk about this, July."

"Yeah, right. Sorry."

After the end of this discussion, I say, "Also, we didn't do QOTD today."

"Oh yes." He nods. "Go on, ask away."

I've been wanting to ask him this for a while, but wasn't sure if it was stepping over the boundary. But now I don't have any doubts about that. So I ask, "Tell me something about yourself you've never told anybody else."

"Eh?" He scratches the back of his head. "There are tons of things like that."

"Okay then, something cute. And wholesome. That no one else knows."

"Darling," he switches to British accent, "literally everything about me is cute. Every ounce of my whole existence is cute. I am the definition of cute. I was born-"

"Alright, alright, I get it. Now answer the question." I roll my eyes.

"Hmm . . ." He stares at the fire as he thinks. "Ah! I found one."

"What is it?" I ask with high anticipation.

"I used to-" He laughs. "Okay this is so embarrassing to say. But I- okay, so I used to run a website."

Now that was totally unexpected. "A website? Of what?"

"Don't you dare laugh."

"I won't! Tell me."

"I used to write character reviews of anime characters. Specifically Ghibli characters."

My jaw drops.

"Cedar, if you laugh I will never talk to you again!" But he himself is laughing, probably in embarrassment.

"No I'm not gonna-" I shake my head, "it's not funny, it's just . . . shocking. Somehow I can't imagine you typing anime character reviews on your computer or whatever and then post it on your personal website."

"Yeah, doesn't match my vibe, does it? But it's true. I made it back in 2015, I think? Back then, anime was my only true source of happiness. And Studio Ghibli movies were my escape. Because those movies can always transport you to a completely different world. And I have always liked analyzing people and understanding them in a deeper way, so I thought why not? I posted a lot of reviews until probably mid-2017. And then I stopped 'cause . . . lost interest,I guess."

2017 is the year Moon died, so I'm not surprised. I ask, "So . . . you can write? Wow."

"Nah, I suck at it. But regardless, I had some interesting things to say about every character I wrote about, so the lack of literary skills was very negligible. It took a while but by early 2016, I already had a bunch of regular readers. Their comments were enough to make my whole month. I would also have cool, fun debates with random strangers, and that was interesting. Though everything else was fucked up, I managed to find happiness through my website."

Hearing him talk makes me realize that July has indeed tried his best. He didn't give up on life easily, and always searched for ways to make it better. He searched for ways to survive. He always did. He just didn't succeed in the end.

All his efforts went to waste.

"That's indeed very wholesome," I say with a smile. "So what's the name of of the website? I want to check it out later."

"Umm, to be honest, I don't want you to."

"Hmm? Why not?"

"I don't know, it's . . . it's just gonna make you sad, reading old things I wrote. Things my past self wrote. I was different back then than I'm now."

I place my chin on my kneecap and fiddle with the empty packet of chips. Does he still not trust me fully? But I want to know everything about him. Him, as in all the different versions of him, past and present, ugly and beautiful. Everything.

I don't say it out loud.

"Well okay, whatever you wish," is what I do say out loud. But when I look at him, I find him frowning, evidently lost in thought.

He says, "Wait a minute, now that I think of it . . ."

"What?"

He rubs the back of his neck. "Someone did know about this."

"Really? Who?"

He looks at me. "The class president in my first year of high school. I forgot her name though, probably because she transferred the next year. I only vaguely remember how she looked like. But she was a huge Ghibli fanatic too. I guess she came across one of my reviews and saw my name there, so she messaged me and asked if it was mine. I figured there is no point of lying, so I admitted it. She praised me for it, and I think that was the first and last time we talked."

"Oh, I see. Then that doesn't really answer my question."

"C'mon, at least you got to know something new about me. So it doesn't defeat the purpose. Anyways, my turn."

"Kay."

He thinks about it for a while, but then he says, "I can't think of any right now, so later. Besides, you should try to sleep now. You haven't slept properly in more than two days, Cedar."

"Oh, okay. I will after a bit of reading."

With a nod from him, silence settles between us. Norwegian Wood has been sitting on my lap for a while now, unopened. Even though I want to read everything Dawn has written for me, I find it increasingly harder to gather courage to open the book to the next sticky note. Within me, there is a growing fear that I will figure out something extremely crucial about Dawn through these notes, and it will completely shatter me.

With a deep breath, I open it to the next note. There's only a single sentence, written in full caps.

"HATSUMI DESERVES BETTER!!!!!!!!!"

I let out a chuckle at that. I agree with you, Dawn. Totally. Despite how much I love Midori, if I was given the option to pull out one character from this book, I would choose Hatsumi.

I breathe out a sigh of relief seeing that this note was light and even funny. However, my relief doesn't manage to last. I realize I forgot something crucial about this book. The fact that there is a sentence here that connects to Dawn in a way the me from 9 months ago would never have imagined. And Dawn has something to say about it, because he has underlined that exact line.

"'Only the dead stay seventeen forever.' So true. Do you see, Cedar? In a way, my wish to never grow up came true. My aging fell still. I didn't have to experience what Toru did. The thought of moving from 19 to 20 still terrifies me. I guess it's true what they say-Be careful what you wish for. I guess there is no point of me wishing for this wish to come true in a way that doesn't include you getting hurt. It's too late now. I keep having this realization again and again. It's too late now."

-D

I gulp, feeling a weight forming in my chest, slowly coming upwards to my throat. I realize I'm trying to hold back tears. But what's the point of crying now? It's not going to make him come back.

At least he got his wish.

Bees have started to sting the insides of my eyelids. I can barely focus on the words anymore. There is a lingering ache in my chest, unwilling to leave me. Dawn and his words fill every nook and corner of my mind, and I abruptly rediscover the fact that I loved him-love him-so much.

The discovery makes me weaker. The more I realize the significance of his existence in my life, the more I crumble apart. It's not something that I realized many times when he was alive. Why now, then? Why now, after he has left me forever? Can it get any more cruel than this?

Exhaustion grips all my limbs like a giant octopus. My eyes begin to lose focus. I perceive the noises all around me with a strange clarity. I take my eyes off the book and slowly close it. My eyes settle on a random tree in a distance, and what I see makes my heart stop.

The book falls off my lap as I jump to my feet. Eyes widened, hands trembling, I distinctly make out his figure standing beside the tree.

"Cedar, what's wrong?" July's voice is distant, unimportant, meaningless.

"D-d-daw-" My breath gets caught up somewhere in my throat, but my lips stretch into a smile. "Dawn!" I run to him, to my Dawn, forgetting about everything else. Nothing matters more than him; I would gladly plunge into eternal darkness if I have to. But before I can make my way to him, a hand tightly grabs my arm.

"Cedar!" says a voice I can barely register over my intense desire to reach Dawn. "Cedar, it's not real!"

"Dawn- it's Dawn!" I tell him, desperately trying to free my arm from his grasp. I don't blink even when my eyes begin to sting terribly, afraid I will lose my sight of Dawn. I need to go to him. I need to go to Dawn. "Let me go!" I scream at July, but he places his hand on my cheek and forces my eyes away from Dawn to his.

"Cedar, it's not-!"

"What are you doing?!" I scream at him again, gripping his wrists tightly to try and take his palms off my cheeks. But he is so much stronger than me. My whole body writhes in desperation, my head loses all entropy. I have never felt such deep hatred for someone as I am feeling for July right now. Why the fuck is he not letting me go to my Dawn?

"Cedar, Cedar- please, listen to me, okay? You're hallucinating-"

"No! Dawn is-" I try to turn my face to where Dawn is standing but July holds it to it place, facing him. I'm losing my strength, and only Dawn can give it back to me.

"Let me go," I say softly this time, my voice nearly breaking. "Let me go, July. Or Dawn will leave again. I want to go to him."

He shakes his head, a drop of tear rolling down his eyes. "I'm sorry, Cedar. You're hallucinating. Dawn is gone, Cedar."

"No." But the surge of hope is dying down with a huge velocity. The more my head clears up, the more I get closer to the inevitable realization. But I don't want to. I don't want to let go of this hope.

"D-d-dawn is th-there. He- he is-" I burst into tears, my knees slowly losing their strength. "You just can't see him. But he's there. I know he's there." I try to convince July, though a part of me is aware it's impossible. His hands drop from my cheek to my shoulders, and I immediately turn my face to that tree. The world is blurry in my eyes. I vigorously wipe my eyes and blink my vision clear.

When I do, I find Dawn nowhere.

My heart drops so hard that I can almost hear it in my ears. "Wh-where did he-?" My eyes move everywhere, checking out each and every corner around me to get another glimpse of him. But he's nowhere. He is gone.

"Where did he go?!" I scream my lungs out to July, and to the world-the world that has parted me from him again.

Again.

"Cedar, Cedar . . ." July pulls me to a tight hug, but my eyes keep darting all around me. This can't be happening. Dawn was right here.

July caresses the back of my head and lightly moves to and fro. "Cedar, come on, let's sleep, okay?" he whispers. I barely hear him. My head is throbbing so much. Everything hurts. I don't have the strength anymore. I don't have the strength to even breathe. I just want to collapse and never wake up again.

"No . . ." I shake my head. "No." I want to see Dawn again. I have to see Dawn again. July rubs my back. He keeps hugging me for a long time, until I slowly calm down and accept the reality.

It was a hallucination.

Dawn is dead.

Cedar, your Dawn is dead.

"Ugh . . .!" A sharp pain erupts in my chest like a deadly volcano shaking the entire planet. More tears squeeze out my eyes, a thick stream of endless waterfalls. "It hurts," I say in a high-pitched voice, sounding foreign in my ears. "It hurts so much."

"I know, Cedar," he says and hugs me tighter. "It's okay. Just get some sleep, Cedar. It will be fine. I'm here, right? I'm right here."

I pull away from him. Then I shake my head. "I'm not going to sleep."

"Huh? Why?" A look of confusion spreads on his face.

"I- I might see Dawn again."

"No no no, Cedar." He exasperatedly sighs and puts his cold palms on my cheeks again. "Cedar you never know what you might see. It can be something much worse. Don't. Please."

"No." It doesn't matter if I see something worse, as long as there is a possibility of me seeing Dawn again. I stubbornly shake my head. "I want to see him." My eyes keep darting around again. Why am I not hallucinating anymore?

"Cedar, please." His voice is so soft and gentle that I feel as I will dissolve into mist. "If you care even a little for me, please just go to sleep."

"I . . .b-b-but Dawn . . ."

"It's not worth it, Cedar. Even if the illusion gives you peace, it can never replace the real thing. If you try to replace Dawn with his hallucinatory image, he will be so hurt. He will think that he is being replaced by the Dawn who doesn't exist. But Dawn's- the real Dawn's-worth is much more to you, right? He is not someone who deserves to be replaced by a figment of your hallucination. Cedar, do you get what I'm saying? And when you realize that it was never real, you will be so hurt in the end."

I squeeze my eyes shut. I feel my exhaustion winning over my stubbornness. Giving up, I place my own hands over his.

"Everything hurts in the end, July."

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18.03.2021

hello, my dear readers❤️

Yes, I really cried while writing the last scene :/ this book has been much lighter so far than the last, but needless to say, things will start getting heavier.

on that note, thanks a lot to all those who reached out to me after the last chapter, and sent words of encouragement and support. really means a lot. i'm starting to feel better slowly, and i think i'll be back to normal soon :)

thanks a lot for reading. take care of yourselves ❤️

- love, Poma